A Fall Through Time
by generric-username
Summary: While attempting to recruit secluded groups of magical people to greater wizarding Britain, Hermione finds herself thrown onto another time. She'll have to tread carefully to avoid unwanted attention, and she'll need the help of some new friends and old acquaintances to figure out how to get back.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Welcome to Inverness

Autumn in Scotland had long been her favorite season. Walking through the brisk evening air Hermione was reminiscent of her very eventful youth. She couldn't help but remember long nights spent with her chosen family in Gryffindor tower common room. Memories good and bad assaulted her awareness, and before she knew it she reached the inn she had been staying in for the last week or so while on assignment. Hermione had been working with the Department of Magical Cooperation as the Liaison for new magic users and magical communities in secluded areas. The idea behind the DMC was implemented due to the depletion of the magical population after the second war against Voldemort. They were a team set out to actively recruit the populace that generally home taught their children and kept to themselves. These groups of people were often in rural hard to reach areas, or sometimes very well hidden in plain sight. Usually met with hesitancy, suspicion, and sometimes violence the witch had become adept at enticing them with the offerings of additional knowledge and communities now available to them since everything had calmed and settled.

The war had been over for ten long years. Rebuilding the Ministry had taken less than a year with former Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister, and Percy Weasley as Junior Minister. Rebuilding trust in the Ministry, however, had taken years. Trust in an institution is never an easy thing to build. Especially, when the trust had been broken so completely. A complete vetting had occurred within the ministry. All personnel had been investigated and all positions reviewed before they could reapply for whichever position they either had in the past or wanted to pursue. The hiring process was tedious, but after all applicants had been either granted employment or denied there were just enough employees to keep the Ministry running. Of these employees, almost half were without family and summarily threw themselves into their job with purpose and vigor.

Nearly everyone had lost. If they hadn't lost people, they lost property and assets. If they hadn't lost those, they lost their reputation or status. Some lost everything. After such a hard, stressful, long war there were not a lot of new people stepping forward to help with the changes. After losing so much the majority of people with surviving loved ones spent their days together. They grieved together hoping to heal the same way. While the magical population was seeing a jump, it was not quite enough to fill the halls of Hogwarts or the vacant positions left in the Ministry. That was where these newly founded recruiting positions came in. While Harry, Ron, and Hermione had made it through the war alive, Harry had Ginny and now their three beautiful children, Ron had his abundance of family, his multitude of nieces and nephews, and had taken on the majority of the running of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shops since George and Angelina were procreating at a rate to soon top Molly and Arthur in numbers. Even Percy had married a nice girl named Penelope, and the couple were expecting their first child before Christmas. Bill and Fleur were beyond happy with their two children. Charlie was still enjoying his bachelor life, now in his late thirties, Molly had finally given up trying to coerce him into settling down to start a family. She was kept quite busy with her soon to be eleven grandchildren, not counting the many young adults she had taken under her wing.

Sunday night suppers were still had at the rebuilt Burrow. The house, after being burned down during the course of the war, was remade bigger and better than ever. An outstanding number of people had come forward to help the Weasley clan with the renovations. The family had apparently impacted a number of survivors during the war. Everyone from Rolf and Luna Scamander, to Neville and Susan Longbottom, even Draco and Astoria Malfoy had come to assist. A standing invitation was set to all of the survivors, and through these gatherings they healed, reminisced together, and maybe most importantly remembered. They refused to forget the fallen, and deemed it necessary to educate the next generation of wizards and witches of the circumstances that led to two terrible wars of Wizarding Britain.

Although the wars had reached outside of the borders of Britain, recruiting was to remain within the country. If any wished to emigrate into the country from abroad they were welcome with open arm. These were however few and far between. Not many seek a new life where the ashes of so many had perished. Many that had fled the country during the worst time had no plans on returning. Not that anyone could blame them.

"Miss Granger, welcome back. Were you able to find who you were looking for?" A plump, middle aged woman with a slightly humped posture asked as Hermione entered the building.

"No Mrs. Buchan, I am afraid they are remaining more elusive than I was prepared for. It looks like I may be enjoying the hospitality of your inn for longer yet." Hermione answered with a kind smile for the older woman. They had shared tea and easy conversations almost every afternoon since she arrived at the inn ten days ago. Mrs. Buchan was a muggle of about sixty years old. In the time they spent together, Hermione had learned Fiona Buchan was a widow with three daughters, and six grandchildren. Two of her daughters had moved out of Inverness to further their careers, and seek better opportunities with their families. The youngest daughter had stayed close not wanting to leave her mother alone. Fiona had purchased the inn shortly after the death of her husband Ernie sixteen years previously. The inn was a quaint two story aged building. The floor level held the common areas; the sitting room, the kitchen, and Fiona's wing. The upper level held five guest rooms that shared two washrooms. Fiona told Hermione she mostly needed something to keep her occupied after her girls had grown and started their own families. Fiona had been a dedicated wife and mother never seeking much of a career herself, so naturally the more logistical aspects to keeping the Inn fell to Tisha, her daughter. Fiona took care of the hospitality aspects of the business, and Tisha took care of the rest.

"Mam, leave the poor girl alone. She's scarce had a chance to dry off." Tisha had come through the door leading to the kitchen. "Hermione, would you like to join us for tea?"

"I would love to. Let me go freshen up a bit, and I'll be right down." She agreed, and headed to the stairs. The room she was renting was modest and warmly decorated with floral wallpaper, dark wood furniture with a soft bed, and a fireplace. After a quick towel dry for her hair, she removed her outer layer and headed back down.

"There you are dear. Tisha was just regaling me with the latest tale of horror that wee Emily has become. She says darling Emily refused to enter the school grounds today loudly declaring she was already smart enough, and doesn't see why it is necessary to continue to go if she hasn't learned a new thing all year." She leaned towards Hermione conspiratorially and loudly whispered, "She's a bit of a book worm, our Emily." Fiona winked straightening back up.

"I'll have you know, I myself was known to be a bit of a book worm when I was younger. Always had my nose in a book. I even earned myself the title of the resident know-it-all of the school." Hermione stated, continuing with a grimace. "The other kids tormented me until they needed help, or were asking me to do their school work for them. Actually, it was quite awful at times."

The mother and daughter shared a sympathetic half smile with the witch. "Well if little Emily's head gets any bigger, she may just float away", Tisha joked, puffing her cheeks full of air in demonstration. "So, was that just a stage you eventually outgrew, or did your parents wean you out of it?"

Hermione felt herself pale slightly. Even after all these years, sometimes an unexpected memory of her parents still caused a painful shock. The guilt was constant, sometimes it lay more dormant, but it was always there. "I suppose I grew out of it eventually", she said recovering some of her composure. "I lost my parents many years ago. Circumstances outside my control made me become an adult a bit sooner than I'm sure I would have otherwise." Taking a sip of her tea, she offered them a smile, and changed the subject. "I would like to meet your daughter though. Us swots have got to stick together, yeah? Maybe I can offer her some advice?"

"Of course, dear", Fiona answered. "You must join us for dinner. We are planning for Samhain, and if you plan on sticking around for another week, we would love for you to join in the festivities." Fiona's twinkling hazel eyes seemed to stay a bit longer on Hermione, causing an eerie almost Deja vu feeling to crawl across her. Hermione was discreet as always about using magic in muggle dominant areas, but she got the distinct impression that Fiona knew more about magic than she let on. However, the feeling passed almost as quickly as it came.

"I would hate to impose", Hermione said politely.

"Och, never you worry dearie," Tisha joined in. "In all honesty it would save us a trip back here as you're our only guest. Not many people come out here so close to the changing of the seasons. Many superstitions remain even most people if directly asked would deny such. As long as you're not the finicky sort to that kind of tradition I think you'd fit in with our family just fine." Tisha nudged her mother with her elbow, and gestured to the woman. "What do ya think Mam? She may even be a good candidate for our women's club."

"Tisha! You know better than to be blabbing to our guests with that. She hardly knows us, and we hardly know her." Fiona was gazing at her daughter sternly. "You can't just go inviting everyone we meet. It's not your say to do so yet." She paused, and looked speculatively to each of the young women. "Even if in this case you may be right."

"I assure you I have no delicate sensibilities to the magical or pagan." Hermione said laughingly. "I have actually studied quite a bit of folklore in my spare time. What, may I ask, is the nature of your women's group?"

With a sigh and a slightly exasperated glance at her daughter, Fiona turned an appraising eye to Hermione. "Before I tell you that, child, would you allow me to read you palm?" She extended her hand out for Hermione's.

"I've never been much for Divination, but sure. Do your worst." Hermione placed her right-hand palm facing up in Fiona's hand.

The older woman contemplated the hand in her own for several seconds before her lips twitched a bit, and she glanced up to meet Hermione's eyes. Returning her gaze to the palm, she began tracing the lines with her own fingers.

"Well...don't keep us in suspense", Tisha leaned over to get a look at what had her mother in uncharacteristic silence. Her brow began to furrow slightly, as if seeing a new puzzle for the first time, but it smoothed out almost as quickly. A quiet "Oh", was her only response.

"Well I'm not set to die tomorrow or anything as sinister, am I?" As the silence stretched, Hermione began to feel her stomach squirm with nerves under the mother and daughter's examination. "Out with it you two".

"No dear! Nothing so perverse, I assure you. I learned to read lines from my Mam, and she hers before her and so on. I've only seen this pattern", she gestured to Hermione's hand, "thrice before, and we shall get to that in a moment". She gave a warm smile her mind clearly somewhere else. "This here though", she gestured once more, "Only once have I seen it, and never before had it noted inn our journals by Mam or anyone else." She looked to her daughter. "Wee Emily has a similar mark on her palm. You're a traveler, dear."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Lines of Time

"Yes well, I haven't traveled all that far really. I mostly stay in Britain", Hermione responded.

Fiona and Tisha were both looking at her intently. They shared a look before Fiona spoke once more, "You misunderstand me, Hermione." Looking unsure where to take the conversation forward, she said, "I think this conversation may benefit from a nip of something a bit stronger than tea". Without waiting for an agreement from either of the other women at the table, Fiona stood and crossed the kitchen to a wooden cabinet behind the swinging door, and came back with a bottle and three glasses. After pouring a generous spot in each glass, she took a swig from her own. Fiona's eyes met Hermione's meaningfully once more. "Do you believe in magic, Hermione?"

Hermione decided to buy time by taking a slow sip from her glass, all the while maintaining eye contact with Fiona. Quickly assessing her options, she decided that she had no reason for concern. After all, in a worst-case scenario, she could simply alter their memories Obliviating all traces of her stay here. Fiona met her calculating glance with an untroubled one. For an instant Hermione swear she saw a hint of recognition in the older women's eyes. She answered with a smirk, "Yes. Don't you?"

A smile that started at one corner of Fiona's mouth soon over took her whole face, and a deep chuckle escaped her. "You're a saucy thing! I'll have to keep an eye on you I see". The tension in the room breaking. From beside Fiona, Tisha was watching them both with interest. Taking one more bracing swig of whiskey, the older woman began again,"Well Hermione, have you heard of the peculiarities of standing stones then?"

Hermione's head cocked to the side, not expecting this change in subject. "Do you mean like Stonehenge?"

"Aye, almost exactly like Stonehenge. There are hundreds of gathering of stone circles like that all across the country. Most smaller than Stonehenge, but that's because those bampots that made Stonehenge had no idea what they were doing. They forced the largest stones they could find upon the ley lines and sapped all the magic out. Overcompensating for something if you ask me". Hermione couldn't help but sputter on her sip of whiskey at that comment, breathing in a little of the burning liquid. Tisha's face bore a fond resignation of somebody who has long suffered these ideals from her mother before. Meeting Hermione's slightly watery eyes, Tisha raised her glass to her with a soft snort.

Fiona refilled all three glasses before continuing on, "These locations are said to leak the earth's magic like a spring. Our ancestors marked these locations with whatever they had available, most notably stones." Hermione was nothing if not well read. She, however, had never heard this particular folk tale. "My family have been guardians of the local stones here as long as history has been recorded. Although we e have no written history of the original placement of the stones, we have our stories that have been passed down from generation to generation. I am the Caller of the ritual at my stones for the four earthly changing of seasons. When time dictates, I will pass my title to one of my daughters. Tisha has been the most receptive since she was a babe, so she will be the next Caller and one of her daughters will be after her. So, it has been for many generations." She paused to let this information sink in and gauge Hermione's reaction.

Hermione was entirely captivated to learn of new magics. She remained cautious, however, needing more information before exposing herself, and asked, "What is the earth's magic capable of?"

Fiona's answering smile reminded her of Professor Flitwick's whenever she answered a question correctly. "That is the question we need answered to move this conversation forward." She looked over at her daughter, "Is Phillip picking up the girls today? This is a conversation you've not heard in entirety before."

"Let me make a quick call then. I'll be right back." Tisha stood pulling her mobile from her pocket and exited the room towards the living room.

"Hermione", The older woman said quietly, gently grabbing back onto her hand to get her attention, "I have met your kind once before. We have no magic of our own to wield in this family. We are just guardians of the stones. I have some of The Sight though. I See you lass. You have been through much more than you should have. That other future was taken from you by wretched actions that were out of your control. This may be a blessing for a new start for you, if you are welcoming a change. It doesn't do to dwell on things long since lost." Hermione let her eyes fall from the kind look on the other woman's face onto their joined hands, her mind thinking of her parents again. Fiona's motherly concern was suddenly too much. On her right hand she wore the ring her mother got her as a 'coming of age' gift before the war consumed everything. The ring had a sapphire in the center for her birth stone with a small diamond on each side. She had left it behind when she went to that last year at Hogwarts not wanting to wear the colors of a different house. She never even thought about it until one of the many nights the nightmares of war and her guilt kept her from sleeping. Hermione went back to where her childhood home once stood that night. The death eaters had burned it down while she was in hiding with Harry and Ron. Even though she knew before apparating that the house wouldn't be there any longer, it was still a shock to see the empty lot. She stood disillusioned for hours crying alone thinking of her parents, and all the memories she was now the sole owner of. Looking at the new grass and weeds that grew out of the ashes was painful. How could new life of any kind come to cover the painful past that refused to leave her?

Her parents had been tracked down in the months following the final battle of Hogwarts that ended the war. The condition of their memories was deemed irreversible by the professionals from St. Mungo's. The small bubble of hope Hermione had of having her family back evaporated, and she fell into the darkest part of her life to date. She avoided everyone for months. Hid from them actually, in Australia. She followed her parents obsessively. She barely slept or ate, just watched them living their obliviously happy lives without her. She needed them, but they had no idea who she was. Harry was finally able to convince her to come home only by inciting her anger upon himself. He showed up one day outside of the Wilkins' home searching around. Hermione knew that he was looking for her and stayed well back, ignoring him when he called out to her. Unsuccessful at finding her, Harry walked straight up to her parents' house and introduced himself. He posed as some type of salesman who was waiting for a female partner that was supposed to meet him at their house. They must have thought the situation peculiar, but invited him in anyways. Harry sat and waited her out for hours, knowing her anger would not hold back forever. He won, she marched to the door, stunned her parents from the back, shouted at him and even hexed him at one point in her fury, and he held her when she was out of anger as she cried out all her pain. All the while her parents were unconscious on the floor of their living room. Once Hermione had dried up all of her tears, she went and found the ring in her mother's jewelry case, and left the house. She let Harry wake up her parents making up some excuse, apologizing to them for taking up so much of their time and thanked them for their hospitality.

The two friends just walked around arm in arm for a while after that. No particular direction, although Harry did make them stop at a cafe for food and made her eat with him, never leaving her side. Eventually, once the sun had gone down, Harry held her close again and quietly told her, "It's time to go home now, Hermione."

Hermione looked up, looking more fragile than he had ever expected to see her. Her eyes were watery and bloodshot. The bags underneath them were a dark bruised color, but the look in them is what was hardest to see. Hermione Granger, the bleeding heart to lost causes, was broken. Her heart, her confidence, and her hope for her future had all been broken and drained away. All that was left was raw despair and grief. She looked up at him and nodded. She clung to him that night as she slept solidly for the first time in weeks. The two friends left first thing in the morning. Hermione hadn't returned to Australia since that terrible trip. Neither had she removed the ring.

When Hermione felt composed enough she looked back at the woman across the table, not quite knowing what to say. Fiona was clearly more familiar with magic than Hermione had originally thought. "How long have you had The Sight?"

"I guess I've always had it with me. As a child there were instances that it would come to me, but they were few and far between. Once I came into womanhood though, that is when it really manifested. There were days I could get no rest from all the visions and sight drifting through my head. While going through the bodily changes no less. I wasn't sure I was going to make it without losing my head for a time." She confessed. "But in the end, the Sight evened itself out, and I learned to embrace it instead of resent what I had been gifted." Fiona released Hermione's hand and sat up just as the door swung open letting Tisha rejoin the table.

"Ok Mam, Phillip is picking up the girls from school today. Let's hear what this story is that you've been keeping from me." Tisha plopped back down into her seat reaching for her unfinished whiskey.

"Needless to say, this story stays here. With us. Tish you can't be running off to gossip with your sisters, or Phillip. Leave your daughters out of it for now as well. Don't need those sweet girls thinking we are any crazier than they already do." She paused staring at Tisha as if waiting for an argument. Tisha dipped her head to her mother, and bobbed her whiskey glass for her to continue. "Although she was not the first to be 'taken by the faeries' as legend would call it, our story begins with a woman named Claire Randall. Claire and her husband Frank were reacquainting themselves with each other after having spent most of their marriage apart in the Second World War. Claire was a combat nurse with the Royal Army, and Frank worked intelligence. Frank was a bit of a historian, and would spend hours with the Reverend Wakefield perusing historical documents researching his family tree". She paused here, placed her index finger to her teeth for a moment. She stood suddenly, "Actually I think I've still got some pictures laying around." She bustled into the study with the other two women close behind. "Ah", grabbing a yellowed looking photo album from a shelf, she turned while opening it, angled so the three of us could see it. "Frank later became a professor of history at both Oxford and Harvard."

The photo of two young people looked to be a wedding photo. The woman had a hat over an abundance of brown curls darker than Hermione's own hair. The man had a fedora hat that complimented his suit, and a warm expression directed at his new bride.

"Here they are. Mr. Randall and the Reverend became friends through their mutual interest in historical research. The Randall's were often hosted at the Manse that was the Reverend's home where my mother worked as the housekeeper. On one of the days the men were up to their elbows in research, Claire left on her own to go get a better look at a plant she had spotted the day before. The plant was near the stones. After that morning nobody saw her for three years." Fiona then turned the page to a very pregnant looking Claire. Although her and Frank stood side by side with his arm around her, the couple looked tense and distant compared to the first photo.

"She came back with something extra in tow, didn't she?" Hermione observed.

"Yes. It was quite the scandal. When asked where she had been all this time, she didn't have much to say. She was able to open up to my mother a bit. Claire told her she had been here in Scotland, but nearly two hundred years in the past. She told my mother the stones had taken her there. She confessed to becoming pregnant by another, and they ended up moving to The United States for a fresh start." The three women turned back towards the comfort of the kitchen. Resettling themselves at the table, Fiona continued the story. "Twenty years later Claire came back to Scotland with her daughter, Brianna. They attended the wake and stayed to talk to Roger, the Reverend's nephew and adopted son. Seems Claire had some sort of pact with Frank to not look for Brianna's biological father while they were together. Frank had died as well though, two years previously, and she knew Roger to have followed the Reverend's example, and was a historian of sorts as well. Claire, Brianna, and Roger ended up spending a lot of time together. Claire told her daughter of her real father, and Roger helped find him. Claire went back to him eventually. Brianna tried to go home to Boston and go back to college, but struggled. She still looked into the past looking for any confirmation that her mother had made it back safely. What she found was not what she wanted. An article dated 1776 announced the death of James and Claire Fraser. Brianna began preparing for her journey to save her parents with hopes she could get to them in time. Roger followed her." Fiona stopped to sip her abandoned whiskey collecting herself before looking up at Hermione. "Hermione you are a traveler like they are, a traveler of time."

A/N: Updated in order to clean up some prickles. Reads much smoother now like a wordly equivalent of a freshly shaven leg.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **The Guardians and Magic**

'A traveler of time' Hermione repeated to herself. While she knew about ley lines in concept, and knew some locations to be more saturated in natural magic, Hermione had never heard of a location being magical on its own. Unless a location was maintained with magic from either person or creature it was not possible for any location or object to retain this magic for as long. Hogwarts for example was built on these ley lines making the castle itself more receptive to the magic of others. In addition to that, the sheer amount of magical people that inhabited the castle for such extensive periods of time assured it had a constant source of magic flowing through it. Magical creatures gravitate towards magic naturally. That was why there were not many problems with muggles encountering the type of pests that were common in the homes of wizards and witches. That is also the reason for all the magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest. To suggest a place to be inherently magical with no supplementary source, however, was simply not something that should be possible. Fiona Buchan had unknowingly gained the intrigue and curiosity of the considerable brain of Hermione Granger. The older woman had also mentioned a ritual of some sort. Even though she did not seem to have much magic herself, a ritual implied multiple participants. If these additional participants had magic as well, their magic may be enough to imbue and therefore maintain this magical location. She needed more information.

"You are both guardians of time magic?" Hermione figured if both of the women in front of her magical to a degree she would have two subjects to begin her gathering of data for her recruiting of potential magical persons. She had encountered Guardian civilizations on previous recruiting missions. Civilizations that worked together generation after generation to preserve some sacred information, or location. They were some the most difficult people to recruit. Asking any group of people to change their viewpoint on subjects that had been instilled in them since conception was never an easy endeavor. She had fought a war over similar ideals after all.

Tisha sat uncharacteristically quiet looking like she just got the terrible news of a beloved pet dying. Although her mouth stood slightly agape, no sound came from it.

"In a sense, I suppose, you could say that", Fiona began slowly. "We are guardians of our stones. They are called Craigh na Dun. We are not guardians of all similar locations, nor their secrets."

If there was more to that explanation, Tisha did not think it relevant. Finally finding her voice she exclaimed, "Roger!?" Staring accusingly at her mother, her face was all betrayal. "Uncle Roger?" she continued to interrupt. Fiona breaking eye contact with Hermione in favor of returning her daughter's glare with one of her own. Tisha scoffed, "You told me Uncle Roger moved his family to America to take care of Auntie Bree's sick mother!"

"Which is true enough. They had moved to the colonies at the last of the research", Fiona conceded shrugging slightly.

"Mother! How could you keep this from me for so long? They moved near twenty years ago!" She gasped with realization. "I wrote them letters! I made Jemmy birthday and holiday cards! No wonder I never got a response. What did you do with those? I am correct in assuming they never received them? That you were unable to send them to our extended family in a _DIFFERENT COUNTRY, IN A DIFFERENT CENTURY!_ " Her eyes began bulging concerningly. Hermione sipped her drink.

"Tisha! Calm yourself before you work yourself into a fit. Mother, Mary, and Joseph." Fiona stared at her daughter and pat her back with a slight eyeroll, as if her daughter were completely over reacting. "Darling, I could not very well tell you where they actually were. You were quite the talkative child, and our family is already categorized as eccentric with our 'Pagan festivities'. Christ child," she sighed. "And as for the letters and cards, I kept them in a box in case they ever make it back here again. I keep it in the basement with the remaining things the reverend left behind."

Tisha continued to sit staring at her mother, her mouth opening and shutting like a carnival goldfish. Though her eyes appeared to be firmly in socket now. "Right. Uncle Roger is in the past." She said, trying to make more sense of the situation. "Have you done any checking? Are you sure they made it?"

Fiona turned the page of the photo album towards the back of the book. Hermione reading it upside down saw the notice of death of James and Claire Fraser. On the page next to it was a photograph of an aged painting of a young woman with ample amounts of dark red hair. Most of her hair was piled high on her head with some tendrils escaping. Tisha was looking at the picture with her jaw dropped. There was a description plate pictured next to the painting which read, 'Portrait found in North Carolina plantation historic restoration. Believed to be relative of Scottish immigrant and plantation owner Jocasta Cameron Innes.'

"Tisha", Fiona spoke a bit softer. "When you knew Brianna and Roger, they had already lived in both times. They were married in 1769. Little Jemmy was born in 1770. They returned only to save baby Amanda. She was born a few years after Jemmy with a heart defect that would have cost her life to stay where she was. I had heard nothing from either of them for so long, and one-day Roger called me like no time at all had passed. He offered me no excuse for his absence only saying that he and Brianna had a family now, and asking if they may come visit. He ended up moving back here with his family in tow. They lived with us while they repaired the old home they bought. Over the next few years we became quite close, and after an incident that had Brianna showing up late one night asking me to watch their children, claiming them to be in some sort of danger at their own home. They sat down with me and told me where they had been all those years. Or rather when." Fiona's eyes fell closed, and Hermione could see her eyes twitching underneath, as if sorting through her memories. "They told me there were other travelers that had been trying to take Jem because of some sort of nonsense prophecy or the like. Not long after that they left again. They left me as executor of their home. I have not seen or heard from them since 1983." The three sat in silence, only to be interrupted by Tisha's phone ringing a minute later.

"It's Phillip. I've got to get going." She rose, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek as she answered her phone. "Hey Phil, yes, I'm on my way." A short pause and then, "Love you, see you in a bit." Tisha turned to Hermione, "Lovely to see you again, Hermione. Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night?"

"I'd love to, thank you." She agreed with a smile.

Fiona gave her daughter one more fond smile, and said, "We'll see you tomorrow, love."

"I still have questions, mother. I expect you to come early to help with dinner, let's say around four?"

Fiona rolled her eyes at her daughter. "Yes dear. We'll be there." Tisha narrowed her eyes slightly at her mother before leaving.

"Do you think she would follow me across time and space to find me should I disappear?" She said with a humorous snort. "I swear sometimes she gives me the same look I used to get from my own mother when I got myself in trouble. When I started my family the women always told me to be prepared for my spawn to be me reincarnate. I was not prepared to raise my mother reincarnate. It can be very disturbing at times." She caught Hermione's eye with a mischievous twinkle in hers. They erupted with laughter together.

After spending a pleasant evening together, Hermione retired to her room. Her mind was reeling with possibilities of this time magic. If the people from Fiona's story had been able to travel back two hundred years, was it possible to go back less time? While she did not want to get caught up with 'what-if' scenarios, how could she not see the positive changes that could be made in her own past. If she could have known beforehand the damage she would do to her parents, she would have figured something else out. She could potentially change the losses of her war. Cringing at her Dumbledore-esque notions, she put those thoughts to a stop. It may have taken her years to come to terms with her survival, but she had come to terms. There was no point getting lost in those type of thoughts. These Druids that attend Fiona's rituals may be the reason she was here. Pulling out her map and supplies, she checked the electronic waves. Everything was as it should be in a muggle establishment. This location had been on her list with intermittent disturbances for months. Hermione had been busy pursuing more active locations without crossing this area until now. Going back over the notes her team had left her about this area she found a pattern of spikes of data that correlated with the season changes that Fiona had described as being the time of rituals. Maybe what she came here to pursue was hiding in plain sight. There was also the matter of the prophecy Fiona had mentioned. The thought alone of another prophecy crossing Hermione's path was enough to make her anxious. She would just have to see if tomorrow offered any clarifying information. Willing her mind to take a rest she turned over and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Two Bookworms and A Dinner**

Making her way downstairs the next morning, Hermione was going over her plans for the day. She already knew where the public records office was located, and that they opened every weekday morning at nine. She was even of first name basis with the file clerk there because she had been there quite often researching the civilizations she had come to find, and planned to be the first one through the door that morning for new research. There were usually a couple of attention grabbing items that Hermione looked for when doing research on her recruiting missions. Items that were indicators of the crossover between the muggle and magical worlds. Usually the easiest to find was a large area of land that was inhabitable, but off limits for some reason or another. Environmental reasons such as natural gas leaks, or sinkholes were both things that she had encountered in past missions. Superstitious reasons were also sometimes used. She had seen entire villages disguised as cemeteries. Muggles living nearby never realized that none of them knew of anybody being buried there, nor did anyone else they knew. She had seen entire communities cloaked and unplottable. Those were the time-consuming trips. One such trip took her over fourteen months to infiltrate, gain trust, and convince them the fighting was really over. Of course, the fighting was never really over. They may not have many from a tangible regime to physically fight any more, but they had to fight for peace and recovery still.

Grabbing one of Fiona's delicious scones on her way out, Hermione walked in the direction of the public records office. The weather, as was usual for this time of year, was overcast with heavy clouds that looked ready to let go the burdensome weight any minute. She made good time and made it to the office, stepping inside as the rain began to fall.

"Good morning Esther." Hermione greeted as the woman looked up. Esther looked to be about Hermione's own age with a round kind face, and chestnut hair that curled just above her narrow shoulders.

"Oh, hello Hermione", she greeted sweetly. "What vague references have you come to pull out of order now?"

"Come now Esther, you know I always clean up after myself." Hermione answered with the edge of her mouth quirking up. "But since you brought it up, I am looking to research someone named Claire Randall from the nineteen forties. Mrs. Buchan, the owner of the inn I am staying at, was telling me an interesting story last night, and I do love a good mystery."

"Of course. I'll find those and bring them out to you." She was still staring at Hermione. "What else?" She asked already knowing this early in their acquaintance Hermione could not simply research one thing.

"If there are any similar cases of unexplained disappearances, I would like to see those as well please."

"Sure thing, shouldn't take long to locate." Esther was already looking up the location of the files on her computer and scribbling notes on a paper pad before walking to the back where the paper records that had not yet been digitized were stored.

Hermione made herself comfortable at the table she had occupied the times she had been there before.

Hours later only when she had been physically chased out of the office by Esther, who was quite scary when driven by hunger, Hermione went back to the inn with her notes. She had been able to look at the Randall case report and private investigator notes. Fiona wasn't lying when she said it had been quite the scandal. There had been no less than ten newspaper articles about the Randall's the month Claire returned alone. Some nurse that had been in the home where she convalesced from malnutrition and dehydration let leak to the press that Claire returned pregnant. The public as a whole, it seemed, was content to think that Claire had run away from her husband when he wasn't the man she remembered marrying before the war. They explained away her return with a tragic death for her lover, and the desperate need for a roof over the heads of herself and her unborn child even though it was well documented that she was a combat nurse, and if necessary she could surely work and provide for herself, and the child. There were several more cases that held definite parallels to the Randall disappearance. One was very possibly the exact scandal that the press insinuated happened to Claire. Hermione would have to check with a surviving family member to know for certain. A few more leads were shaky at best. There was one, however, that sounded similar enough to Claire's case, if significantly more disturbing. Gillian Edgars was a young married woman that studied folklore and antiquities at a nearby institute. She was reported to be an obsessive study of the Bonnie Prince Charlie of the second Jacobite rising. The night of her disappearance was complicated by the murder of her husband, whose burned body was found on a hill some ways away from town. The investigators could not figure out why the murderer would choose such an inconvenient location for a murder that appeared to be planned. Based on the laceration marks on his remains Mr. Edgars had been bled before being burned. More research on their family tree proved fruitless. The couple had no children, were only children themselves, and both sets of parents had long since passed.

It was around three in the afternoon when Hermione made it back to the inn. The entry was empty, so she went straight up to her room to organize her notes, and freshen up for dinner. She pulled out her other notes from her beaded bag and added the new one to her file. She never got rid of the small beaded bag. Even though she could easily make a new one, this one held sentimental value. She did on occasion change the appearance of it to her liking. For tonight, she glamoured it into a practical black leather purse that would match the shoes and belt she chose for tonight. She changed into a olive green, long sleeved, knit dress that was just above her knees. Matching that with black tights, and her leather ankle boots and belt she made her way back downstairs to meet Fiona.

Tisha had a beautiful cottage like home. The outside welcomed them with bushes and shrubs along the walkway. Hanging planters with various herbs and flowers hung off the eaves of roof. Fiona led the way inside without knocking. They were met with enough raucous noise to make a Weasley gathering proud. Tisha's daughters were fighting with each other, Tisha was shouting at them to stop carrying on before their guests arrived, and Phillip had a camera out trying to record the whole debacle.

"Dad! Stop it! This isn't funny!" The older of the two girls yelled.

Her father laughed in response, "It may not be funny now, but one day you will bring a boy home and with any luck this will scare him away."

"Phillip Ross stop tormenting your daughter." Tisha scolded.

The younger daughter scoffed, "Don't worry Dad, I don't think you'll need that video". She turned to her sister, and added nastily, "She's sure to scare them off on her own!"

"Now Emily, that was not a nice thing to say", he attempted to reprimand the girl, but failed greatly when he was unable to stop laughing.

"DAD!" The older girl stomped away with a scream of frustration.

"Emily," Fiona admonished attracting the attention of the family. "What was all that about?"

The family greeted each other, and introduced their guest. "Go on Emily. Tell your Granny what you and Rachael were fighting about." Tisha said once they made it to the sitting room.

"Rachael failed her english test today because she forgot the 'w' in 'answer'. So, I told her that as someone that has reached the double digits she should be a bit smarter. She thought I called her a bad name, and tried to tattle on me. When I told Daddy what I had actually said he laughed at her. She was still trying to get me in trouble and getting angrier, so I told her that anger was not the _answer._ Daddy started recording her then, and she stomped off to her room like a raging bull." At the last sentence she smiled angelically at her Grandmother clearly knowing she was not likely to get in trouble. The adults in the room were avoiding eye contact with one another, lest they all start laughing.

Then Phillip explained, "I didn't mean to laugh at her, but" He reached to cover Emily's ears, "double bitches, and Rachael kept saying it. I couldn't help it." The other adults apparently could not help themselves either. The room erupted in laughter just as Rachael was trying to come out to join them. Catching the tail end of the conversation she blushed profusely and rushed back to her room.

The family plus Hermione spent a comfortable evening together filled with laughs. They were able to coax Rachael out of her bedroom, and the girls made amends quickly as only sisters could. Phillip tried to squeeze 'double bitches' in at every opportunity resulting in many inappropriate comments. The women retired to the kitchen to assist in the cleanup leaving Phillip to check the girls homework and get them ready for bed.

"Hermione, Mam and I talked about it today, and decided we would like you to come to our next ritual for Samhain. Would you like to join us?" Tisha asked.

"I'd be honored", she quickly agreed. "When is the ritual?"

The ritual would take place on Sunday night. Hermione assured the ladies she would be there, and was looking forward to it. After they had cleaned the kitchen Fiona and Hermione said their farewells to the Phillip and Tisha and left to the inn. Once Hermione was sure Fiona had gone to bed for the night she crept down to the fire place. Reaching in her bag for her floo powder jar she called the Potter's house.

"Harry?"

She heard something smash in the background. "Harry?" she called hesitantly. She saw a small boy come into view.

"James? What are you still doing up?" Then she saw what he was holding and the guilty look on his face. "Are you sneaking biscuits?"

"Hermione, is that you?" a man's voice called. James eyes grew wide as he attempted to flee the scene of the crime. "James! You put those back this instant, or I will tell your mother." Harry used the go-to threat in the Potter household. He reached out and snagged one of the treats from his son earning him a glare from the young boy that disturbingly reminded Hermione of Sirius. "Ok one biscuit, then bed." he conceded a little too easily.

Hermione cleared her throat. "You both had better brush your teeth before bed", she jokingly chided. Harry crammed the remainder in his mouth, and winked at her.

"What's got you calling so late?" He asked once he was done chewing.

"Just wanted to let you know I won't be at Sunday dinner. I have finally got a solid lead concerning some Druids and possibly some time magic possessed rocks." She summarized. "Would you mind letting the others know? I am still at a muggle inn in Inverness."

A creaking drew her attention away from the conversation. "Speaking of which, I think I hear the innkeeper coming. Good night boys." Pulling her head out of the fireplace she turned to investigate the noise. Casting a homenum found Fiona still in her room. Figuring it must have been the wind or the old building settling Hermione went back to her room.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. A couple more guests checked in keeping Fiona busy, and Hermione was left to her own devices for the most part. Once Sunday arrived Fiona showed up at her door with a white, gauzy gown to wear to the ritual. When the sun was fully down they left for Craigh na Dun. While they were the first to arrive, they were quickly joined by Tisha and to Fiona's surprise Emily. The stones seemed to radiate a disconcerting energy that likely would have warned her away had the other women not been there seeming entirely at ease. Emily was the only other person that seemed hesitant. Since it was the first time for both of them, they stayed back and out of the way.

Hermione was entranced by the ritual. It was beautiful in its simplicity. There were about ten of the neo-druid ladies all dressed in the similar flowy garment. They held soft lanterns upright, and danced perfectly in sync with one another. Passing each other in opposing circular patterns close enough for their dresses to wrap around the others legs. It was graceful, calming, natural, and entirely not what she had expected. The ritual ended just as the horizon began to lighten. As the group broke up and began heading back to the path that led down the hill. Fiona and Tisha waved the newcomers over to join them. Still feeling uneasy in the vicinity Hermione did her best to remain calm, and tried to convey the beauty of what she just witnessed. Thanking them again for including her. Soon it was just the four of them left on the hill.

The agitated feeling of being near the stones spiked grabbing her attention away from Fiona and Tisha's planning for the next Ritual. Hermione could hear a buzzing whine that seemed to come from everywhere. A dangerous feeling prickled across her skin. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Emily, eyes slightly unfocused and glazed. Desperately trying to shake off the disturbing sensation, Hermione watched the girl moving towards the largest stone in the center with peculiar focus. Not knowing exactly why, but feeling a terrifying sense of danger increase with each of the small girls steps, Hermione snatched the girls sleeve, and tugged her away. Losing her balance, and tripping over the gown in the process. She felt herself falling long after she should have hit the ground. The last coherent thought she had was that those Randall women must have been severely lacking in sanity to make this terrible journey more than once.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thank you all for the positive feed back! I hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Just wanted to let all you lovely readers know my next update may be a couple weeks away because of unfortunate real life obligations. But rest assured I will be working on it. Enjoy!

 **Chapter 5**

 **Adapting**

The first thing Hermione thought as she began regaining consciousness was that she must have splinched herself. It had never happened before, but there was a first time for everything she supposed. Her entire left leg was without feeling leading her to think it must have gotten left behind. Focusing on opening her eyes, the movement of her eyelids caused a bolt of pain to ricochet through her skull. Groaning, she slowly became aware of the lumpy surface she was laying uncomfortably on, and the aches and pains in her body suggesting she had been there too long. Bracing herself, she opened her eyes fully. It was daytime, around mid-morning judging by the sunlight filtering through the trees. Surveying her surroundings, she saw more trees, some shrubs, grass, no sign of the Druid ladies that had been there with her before. She saw those damnable stones, and made to move farther away from them. When she was unable to move away effectively she became aware of the fact she was not alone. The lumpy, uncomfortable surface she was on top of was a body. Startled into motion, she roughly peeled herself away. Her memories flooding back. Emily! It was then she discovered she was in fact in possession of both legs. Unfortunately, this realization did not prevent her from falling back down when her left leg refused to obey her wishes due to loss of circulation from being pinned underneath the unexpected extra body. Sitting up she saw the body belonged to a man. She breathed a sigh of relief. Emily was nowhere in sight. The tall man was at least six feet tall. His hair was so dark that looked black except where direct sunlight reflected off of it making it shine a chestnut color. His skin was the easily tanned olive tone she was always envious of on other girls. Worried by his lack of response to her jerking out from under him she rechecked her surroundings, and pulled out her wand to cast a diagnostic charm. He was alive, and had no life-threatening injuries.

Putting her wand out of sight, but still within reach she slowly stood up. The pain in her head returned with a vengeance that made her nauseous. At least most of the feeling had returned to her leg. Turning toward where the trail that led down the hill should have been she found herself facing an unfamiliar tree surrounded by bushes. Groaning loudly at her situation mixed with the pain she was in, she grasped her head with both hands and leaned it against the tree. Cursing to herself under her breath as she began to understand what must have happened.

"What are you doing here?" A deep voice interrupted.

"How do these things keep happening to me?" She mumbled inaudibly.

"Er, miss...are you alright?" The stranger asked. Hermione was still holding her head against the tree fighting the pain, nausea, and panic.

As she pulled her head away from the tree the ground began tilting. As she lowered her hands, and turned to face the man. "I am perfectly fine", she said unconvincingly. "And I imagine I am here for the same reason you are."

He raised an eyebrow scrutinizing her appearance. "I seriously doubt that, but you look terrible. You should sit. You're starting to turn a bit green. Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" The man appeared mildly concerned.

"I assure you I am fine." Hermione insisted even as her body veered diagonally trying to compensate for the tilting ground.

The man caught her elbow before she could fall completely back to the ground, and gently guided her into a seated position. "Right, perfectly fine. Is that better? What's your name?"

"Hermione", she introduced between slow breaths.

"Roger Wakefield", he responded holding his hand out to her before catching the look on her face and pulling it back.

"Of course you are", she said in a tone of one who has long suffered the worst sort of coincidences in life, and come to terms with her lousy luck. "Sodding druids", she grumbled under her breath. Looking back up to her companion she saw an amused expression on her face that made her more irritable. Seeing that he looked to be just around thirty years of age, she at least had an idea of the year they had fallen into. "Roger is this your first time through the stones?"

His face gained an expression of dismay for a moment before leveling out. "Yes, it is. How did you... have you been through before?" He looked hopeful at the prospect of having an experienced guide. Her words caught up to him, and his face gained a pained expression. "What do you mean 'first time'? I definitely do not plan on doing that again."

"Right, never mind that. No, this is my first time as well. I was recently staying with an old friend of yours before I unintentionally landed here. She was assisting me in some research. I was hoping you would have more information on how to get back." Hermione grabbed her head as it again pounded terribly.

Roger tried to give Hermione a reassuring pat on the back which mostly ended up jostling her at odds with the tilting of the earth. She swatted at his arm wanting him to stop. "It's alright Hermione. I do know someone who has traveled back, so it is possible. My plan is to find her here. There are a few things I need to do first. You are welcome to come with me, if you have no other plans." He pulled a canteen from under his jacket to offer her.

She took a grateful drink, and handed it back to him beginning to feel better. "I may be able to help you find them." Hermione was distracted when she noticed he was wearing low quality Eighteenth century replica clothing complete with frock coat, stockings, even leather shoes with cheap looking buckles. It looked like a costume for a low budget play. "Did you hike up here wearing that?" She laughed at the thought. His expression turned sour when he realized she was laughing at him.

"At least I don't look like some sort of hippie leaving Woodstock. You don't even have shoes on," he pointed at her feet.

She wiggled her toes considering. "Well", she began not really seeing a way around it, "it seems we have found ourselves in a difficult situation. Luckily, I have some things with me that may prove helpful on our journey." She pulled a small coin purse out of her pocket. Roger pulled out his own coin pouch looking like he was about to interrupt she held up a hand and continued what she was doing.

Hermione figured it best to use the band-aid ripping tactic. She pulled her wand out of her sleeve, and tapped the small bag which expanded into the familiar beaded one. Purposely avoiding looking at Roger she reached into her magically expanded bag and pulled out an extra pair of shoes, and a long cloak that would cover most of her ritual dress. She transfigured the shoes into something more appropriate, and added a cushioning charm for good measure. She stood and slid the cloak on before finally looking at Roger. He sat with his jaw sagging and eyes wide, his coin pouch forgotten in his lap. Physically shaking himself out of it, all he said was, "I can definitely see how that may be helpful".

Hermione smirking at him pointed her wand at his shoes making his buckles look more real, and giving them the same cushioning charm. "The only spare clothes I have are only going to draw more attention. This will have to do until we find more." She reached into her bag once more producing the pad she had handwritten her notes about the stones, and the known travelers. "This is your first time through, so it should be 1769 right now. You are looking for Brianna, Brianna is looking for her parents. If we go straight to the port, we may catch her before she catches a ship." With her wand flat in her hand she whispered, "point me". The wand spun in a semi-circle before directing them towards town. She extended her arm toward Roger to help him from where he was still sitting on the ground. "Needless to say, I expect you can keep my magic between us. Are you ready?" Roger only nodded and accepted her hand. She felt a stinging on her hand once he released it and looked down. Her ring from her mother was missing a stone. One of the diamonds from the side was missing, and the metal that had held it in place looked burned. Removing the ring revealed a starburst shaped burn where the stone had been.

"Lucky you had that. All the research Claire, Brianna, and I came across said gem stones make the journey easier." He pulled out a jewel encrusted pocket watch with a burn mark where one of the stones should have been. She considered the ring for another moment before placing it on her other hand.

Arriving to town late in the afternoon, they were both famished from their journey. Food being the first order of business they stopped in a tavern. The inside was musky with the scents of stale beer that had been spilled, the bodies that were crammed together, and most importantly food. They let their noses lead the way to the establishment which promised what smelled like bread, a stew of some sort, maybe even a meat pie. Roger led them to a bench table toward the back of the room. Hermione sat on the same side as Roger to better view the room with her back facing the wall. When the tavern worker came over, Hermione ordered both of them a beer and some food. Not long after the server walked away they were interrupted by a tired looking young man holding a dirty hat in his hands. He had two other young men in a similar state hovering behind him.

"Excuse me, sir. May we join your table? I hate to intrude, but the other tables are full, and we thought with it just being the two of you here..." He let his sentence fall off unfinished. Roger looked at Hermione silently asking her opinion on the matter. She gave him a tiny shrug.

"Sure, why not", Roger responded. The other men joined the table, and he held his hand out to them. "I am Roger Mackenzie, this is my sister Hermione Granger. We are looking a ship to transport us to the Americas." Hermione dipped her head to the men as she was introduced with the cover they came up with on the way to town. The three of them gave her a peculiar look for a moment before introducing themselves. Thomas was the one that initially approached their table. He seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group. His companions were Geoffrey, and Rob. The three of them were sailors on a ship that just returned from Germany exporting wine.

"What takes your travels so far?" Thomas asked genially.

"Afraid it's a rather sad business which leads us there. You see, my sister is recently widowed. Her husband recently passed, and our remaining sister lives in the colony of North Carolina", Roger answered. The three sailors gave condolences, and as tends to happen at the mention of the recently deceased, they remembered people they had lost. They sat and talked amiably for a time over food and drink.

"Have you any relation to the Mr. Granger that distributes goods out of Warner Street?" Geoffrey spoke this time eyeing her warily.

"No, I'm afraid not. My poor husband had no living relatives to our knowledge", Hermione replied wondering if by some fluke her ancestors had immigrated early from France, but knowing that couldn't be right her grandparents immigrated to England just before World War II.

"Hmm", he grunted, his tone making it clear he thought her a liar while still blatantly staring. "Coincidence then, him being an Englishman too."

The others took it upon themselves to change the subject. Eventually the tension in the group dissipated. They were able to recommend an inn for the night after ensuring that based of their experience there were no ships leaving port this late in the day. Lost in thought Hermione looked around the bar again. Roughly half of the other customers looked to be sailors as well. The rest were a mix of old and young, men and women. She thought maybe they were traveling as well. Now that her hunger had been satisfied she nudged Roger, distracting him from the conversation he was following.

"Perhaps we should check in with the port master and then find a room for the night", she suggested. He nodded and pulled a couple of coins out of his jacket to settle the bill. Bidding their new acquaintances good night, they left.

The port master's office was closed for the night. Making their way to the inn Hermione realized it must be later than she thought. It was overcast tonight judging by the lack of stars visible. A chilly breeze blew from behind them, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. Passing by an alley she heard the light pop associated with apparating. Turning towards the alley, however, she saw nothing even as a door opened lighting the alley. She tucked her wand back into her sleeve where she had been slowly sliding it into her hand. A couple quick steps caught up where Roger had gotten ahead of her. Before she had a chance to react a red beam of light flew from her right. Hermione ducked to the ground, and the stunning spell hit Roger on the side of his chest right at the level her head had been a moment before. As he fell, Hermione cast a shield charm around the two of them, and surveyed the empty road around her. It was a dark night, and even with the light escaping the nearby windows nothing betrayed the location of the caster of the spell. She cast a diagnostic on Roger for the second time today reassuring herself he was just stunned. In the moment it took her to check on him another spell shot at her from the opposite direction clearly aimed at her. Her shield charm held as the spell hit the side with a burst of light. Seeing something move to her left she shot her wand out and cast a levicorpus. She heard a grunt as her spell hit her intended target. Hermione stood quickly intending to see who her attacker was. She was barely on her feet when Hermione heard a clearly male voice utter the counter-jinx, and saw his body fall to the ground. Before she could get close enough to see more than average height and loose hair that may have been brown, he apparated away.

Hermione woke Roger up while leaving her shield active. He woke with a gasp. "What in the hell was that?!" He exclaimed.

Hermione shushed him. "Come on, we'll talk about it at the inn."

They were able to procure two adjoining rooms for the night at the Voyages Inn. After they were shown their rooms, Hermione followed Roger into his room. He began opening his mouth to start asking her questions again. Hermione held her index finger to her lips, and pulled out her wand casting a Muffliatto charm around the perimeter of the room. Making sure the window and door were locked, she finally sat in the chair by the window while Roger sat on the edge of the bed facing her. She turned to Roger, "Someone attacked us tonight."

"Figured that much on my own", he deadpanned. "Did you see who it was?"

"No, but I heard his voice. It was a definitely a man. Nothing I saw stood out. He was average height, his hair was too short to be tied, but long enough to touch his collar. It was too dark to see anything defining about him. He could be anyone." She hesitated, not quite knowing how to tell him the worst part, "I have reasons to believe this attacker was from the future."

"What makes you think that?"

"I used a spell on him that was invented by someone in my time, and he knew the counter spell to it." She stood and began pacing the room. "Knowledge of this particular spell was not widely known, and of those that knew of it only three of them myself excluded remain living in my time." Walking back to the window, she continued verbalizing her thoughts. "I never thought I would need to use a moniker this far from my own time."

"Why would you need to hide your identity at all?" Roger challenged, growing suspicious.

Hermione, so lost in her thoughts, hadn't heard him. "1769 was well before my wars began culminating. Even before Grindelwald was born. Think Granger! What was going on in this time?" She paced the small space furiously, and began digging through her beaded bag. She pulled out books in stacks, piling them on the floor at her feet. Rolls of parchment, notepads, pens, quills, and ink joined the pile followed by neatly folded blankets and clothes. A few framed photos, and glass vials filled with different colored liquids topped the impressive pile before she found what she was looking for. Perusing less than a minute she began again, "Aha! According to Matilda Bergsharp's _Anthology of Magical Uprisings_ this should be a peaceful time. It skips from the Goblin wars of 1752 to the Giant Wars more than a hundred years later". She dropped the book back on the stack, knocking one of the frames toward Roger. He caught it before it hit the ground. Turning it over he saw what looked like a teenaged Hermione standing between two boys with their arms were around one another. As he looked at it the people in the photo began to move, bumping shoulders and laughing at some forgotten joke. "It could have just been a fluke. A single wizard trying to stun and steal from a couple of muggles, but it felt like he was aiming at me."

"Hermione", Roger tried to interrupt.

"Maybe I'm just paranoid, but something about this just feels off." She turned to Roger. "We're going to have to be more careful."

"What aren't you telling me, Hermione?" Roger asked in a sharp tone, bringing her back to herself. "You seem to know quite a bit about me before I told you, but you've been closed off about yourself. Even on the walk here you wouldn't say much about yourself. Why would a stranger purposely target you? Why would you think you need to use a different name? And what do you mean 'your wars'?"

Hermione stared at him impassively for a few seconds before funneling her belongings back into her bag with her wand. The picture Roger held began twitching toward the bag eager to join the others. She walked back to sit in the chair facing him. Reaching out for the picture in Roger's hand, she took a slow breath letting it out in a sigh staring at her younger more carefree visage.

"I grew up in a time of war. There was a maniacal Dark Wizard that committed heinous acts, things we didn't even know were possible. He had a loyal following of blood purists who were all intent on taking over Wizarding Britain. He led two wars before we were able to defeat him for good. My friends and I", she traced her fingers over the photo, "had a major role in his downfall. According to a prophecy made by a seer the leaders of both sides put way too much significance into, my best friend, Harry, was the only one with the ability to destroy him. Since everyone believed it, it became so." Hermione looked up from the picture to meet Roger's eyes. "We won in the end, but just barely, and we lost so much. We have been trying to rebuild our government and world for over ten years." They still held eye contact. Roger saw how much she meant what she was saying, and had no doubt of truth she spoke or the hardships she endured. In her eyes he glimpsed for a split second the vulnerability and pain of her memories. He saw for the first time a cold hardness in her. "Harry, Ron, and I were credited with ending the war even though there were others who did more and lost their lives for their efforts. Since then, we have all been attacked by witches and wizards who still believe in and wish to bring back the old ways. Because I am a first-generation witch born to non-magical parents, some presume I am an easier target. The war has never entirely stopped for me.

"These hidden groups blood purists wish to make an example of me because they believe my blood is dirty, and I am less deserving of having magic. While we have been fighting these groups, we have been unable to eradicate them entirely. They have adopted less civilized guerrilla style tactics." She waved her wand in front of her body. "A few may have been able to get a couple hits in, but none have bested me." Her skin tingled a bit as the glamour she kept up was cancelled.

Roger's eyes wandered across her face from the small scars that appeared there. She had scars traced across her cheek and forehead on one side, to the slice mark across her clavicle and throat on the other, down her arm to the scar Bellatrix had given her. She was still recognizably the woman he had spent the day with just clearly more battle worn and dangerous looking.

She gave him a proud smirk, "I'm tougher than I look". With a wink, she returned her glamour with another wave of her wand. "One of the most important things I've learned is that if something feels wrong, it usually is. But for tonight we should get some rest, and get an early start to see if Brianna has already left."

With that Hermione stood making her way to her room. She used a sound enhancing spell a to check on Roger through the wall, and heard the steady deep breathing indicating he was already asleep. Her mind was still busy trying to figure out this impossible situation she found herself in, and who the attacker was. An uneasy sleep took her at last, and her dreams were filled with ugly memories of war and even uglier conjurations of a peaceful existence that never came to be.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Plans Change, We Adapt**

A terrible thumping woke Hermione up. Feeling like she would need at least ten solid hours of sleep to feel refreshed after the hurricane of events that was yesterday. Alas, the knocking continued. She pulled on her cloak, and reluctantly made her way to the door cracking it open. A moss green gaze that was much to alert and cheerful met hers.

"What?", she grunted.

"I brought you some breakfast", Roger offered her a slice of buttered toast with a cup of tea. When she continued to stare at him as if imagining how big a mess would be made if she exploded his skull, but made no move to take the offering, he observed, "Not a morning person I see".

Hermione turned into the room leaving the door open. Roger put the tea and toast on the small table at the foot of the bed, and turned to her, "Wow, nice pajamas". She glared at her pajama bottoms that had an animated quidditch theme. Ginny and Harry had bought them for her as a gag birthday gift one year. She honestly liked them. They made her smile, and were very soft.

Roger was already dressed and ready for his day. Noting the stretching silence, he encouraged her, "The port office opens in half an hour. I'll let you get ready", he stood. "I'll be waiting next door. If you are not out of here in twenty minutes, I'm coming back," he threatened. After he left the room, Hermione went to the breakfast starting with the tea still trying to wake up. Before pulling on the ritual dress from the day before she changed the color of the bodice to a dark, indigo hue, and the skirt a rich brown fluffing the skirt out to create a look more similar to what she had seen on the women the day before.

On their way down the street to the port master's office, Hermione studied the faces of the people that passed. Remembering the attack from yesterday she kept her wand easily accessible while still out of sight. Once they arrived at their destination Roger did the questioning at the port master's office learning there was a ship called the Phillip Alonzo leaving for Charleston later that same day. With both of their spirits measurably lifted at the unbelievable luck, the two decided to pass the morning buying a few items for their journey. While they were walking between shops in search of clothing, Roger suddenly took off.

"Brianna!" He yelled. His eyes were focused in the distance on a tall figure with long auburn hair. Meanwhile, Hermione was fighting her way through the crowded merchant street trying to catch up with him. She wasn't having an easy time of it either. Roger with his height and long stride was able to rush through the crowd with fair ease. Hermione's height was average, her steps shorter, and her skirts more voluminous adding to her hindrance.

"Brianna!" Roger tried again. The distant figure stopped her progression turning toward the sound, but before Roger could get her attention he fell to the ground and out of sight.

"Roger!" Hermione shouted, still fighting her way to where he was. When she reached the spot she had last seen him, he was nowhere in sight. Slipping her wand into her hand she looked around again. The street was still bustling with shoppers, none of the people seemed aware that anything was amiss. On her third turn looking around she saw something move out of sight in between two shops. There was a space about five feet wide that worked as a side entrance to the two neighboring shops, and judging by the smell, was sometimes a toilet as well. Peering around one wall into the space, she found Roger lying on the filthy floor. She crept sideways in the alley wand in front of her, back to the wall. Looking around cautiously, she considered her options. She rushed to Roger deciding on her plan, and intending to apparate them back to the inn. She grabbed his hand apparating quickly. Nothing happened. Filling with dread, she glanced toward the entrance of the alley. The space was empty except for Roger and herself. Her stomach dropped when she stood, and felt the point of a wand between her shoulder blades.

"Don't worry Mrs. Granger", a quiet voice said into her ear, his hot breath brushing her cheek. "We'll reunite you with your dear husband." Her confused panic hardly had a chance to take root as she considered his words before a burning impact hit her back, and the blackness engulfed her.

A shock of energy from an Innervate Spell woke Hermione. Gasping and looking around she found her hands tied behind her back. She was in some sort of cellar judging by the staircase to her right and the casks to her left. Roger was lying next to her still unconscious, hands tied behind his back as well. Beyond him two men were standing against a wall looking on mildly interested in the events unfolding. A third man walked around from behind her twirling a wand between his fingers.

"Where is dear Mr. Granger?" The wizard calmly asked. His face deceivingly patient under a head of straight brown hair that was tied back. He cocked his head as he surveyed her with eyes a shade darker than amber.

"He's dead", she responded having no other option but to continue her cover story.

"Liar!" A familiar voice shouted from across the room. "I just seen him last week!"

Hermione recognized the face of Geoffrey from the night before. "What is this? I do not have a husband. I told you last…." She was cut off with a silencing spell from the man in front of her.

"That's enough. We will just have to wait until he gets here." He turned his wand on Roger to wake him up. "Who is this?" He gestured threateningly with his wand to Roger.

Hermione, still silenced, glowered at the man and mouthed a dissertation of curses at him. He looked on with apparent amusement until Hermione was mouthing something especially depreciating about his manhood, or lack thereof. Clearly, he knew how to read lips satisfactorily. He placed his wand tip to Roger's chest his shirt began to smoke where the wand met. He nonverbally released the Silencing Charm on her with a wave of his free hand, and asked her again.

"My brother Roger", she replied without hesitation. She kept her eyes on the man trying gleam what it was he wanted.

After a few seconds evaluating her the man's eyes narrowed, and his lips turned up in a dangerous leer. "Wrong." A beam of orange light left his wand striking Roger in the abdomen. He woke with a start from the pain of the unknown spell, and attempted to curl around himself with his hands still tied behind him. Recapturing the patient calmness on his face he tried again in a light voice, "How did he come to be with you? And where is his wand?" The lazy words were just audible above Roger's labored breathing and groans.

"He is a muggle. He has no wand." Hermione decided to skip the first question entirely.

The man looked at her delight widening his eyes. "A pet muggle. Your husband must be thrilled." The sly tone in his voice made it clear what kind of relationship her and Roger had. "And you planned to flee the country together. How romantic." He sounded disappointed by the idea, and threw another curse at Roger before the first could completely wear off.

Hermione focused her wandless magic on disarming him. Succeeding in relieving him of his wand earned a momentary look of bewildered amusement. A man in the back retrieved his wand for him. Only when the wand was returned into his hand, did it occur to her that she may have made a mistake. At least the man's attention was off Roger for the moment.

"Tut, tut Mrs. Granger. None of that", he scolded her sardonically. "Just curious, what was your next move after disarming me?" He sauntered into her personal space when she did not respond. Tapping his wand against her sternum, he leaned over to speak into her ear. "Nothing personal, love." He smoothed her hair behind the ear he was speaking into cradling the back of her head. "Your husband robbed me of something very dear to me, so I had to take something from him. And I can't have you trying to take my things from my hands, now can I?" As he stretched back up intimidatingly over her, Hermione saw the familiar handle of her vine wood wand in his waistband. He tapped his wand against her chest once more. The spot where the wand touched erupted in a stinging trail of pain that quickly expanded, engulfing her entire body. Hermione fell to the side grunting and grinding her teeth together hard refusing to allow a scream to leave her throat.

As the pain began to subside, a noise from above gained the roomed attention. The door thrust open to reveal a man being led in by another lackey.

"Ah, Temple. Not having fun without me, are you?" The new man directed at the man below still being led. Directing his attention to the lackey he continued, "Enough Erik, your assistance, while not appreciated, is not required either," he said condescendingly as he jerked his arm out of the other's with a hateful glare.

"Mr. Granger, glad you could finally join us. I have been trying to meet with you for weeks now." The man, Temple, said charmingly. "I was forced to find company elsewhere." He gestured to Roger and Hermione.

Attention being on them again, Hermione made an effort to become upright again managing to prop herself up onto her knees. When the newcomer turned to face them she almost fell back down. There on the stairs making his way down was Theodore Nott. Theo had not been seen since the battle of Hogwarts. After searching the debris of the castle for days in the aftermath his body was never recovered. Draco held hope for months that he would find his childhood friend alive and well, but years passed and no evidence of him was ever found. He had just vanished, yet here he was very much alive. Her mouth fell, and all the color drained from his face as they saw each other. Ironically, he was the one that looked as if he was seeing a ghost.

Observing their reaction to one another, Temple gleefully carried on, "Oh good, you do know each other. I was beginning to worry those fools grabbed the wrong person."

"Granger?...How…" Theo stuttered, the blood beginning to return to his face.

"You…" She managed to pull her mouth closed. "We thought you died."

"Yes, that was the intent", Theo muttered in response.

"As entertaining as this reunion is", Temple broke in, "I want what you took from me. In exchange I will give you your wife back", he informed them.

"Right, I guess there is some explaining needed here. She is not my wife." Theo pointed to where Hermione still sat in a heap on the floor. He turned to Temple. "It seems you give too much credit to your assistants once again." He looked around the room at the various men strategically placed at the points of exit.

During his entry Hermione had been discreetly loosening her ropes with the attention of the room turned on Theo. He spared a quick glance at her, and she thought she saw him lift an eyebrow at her infinitesimally when her body jerked minutely as she slipped her right hand free of her binding. Theo moved casually, stepping in front of her so that his back was facing only her and Roger. Effectively blocking Hermione from view of Temple. He began speaking again, "You can't just assume everybody that bears the same name are somehow related. What if you had them searching for a MacDonald, or a Campbell? Imagine how full this room would end up." He put his hand to his forehead theatrically. Hermione saw the handle of a wand barely visible in the band of his pants as his movement pulled his shirt up. She took the opportunity he gave her, and disarmed Temple and the two closest guards in quick succession.

"Accio wand", she shouted, wand pointed in Temple's direction. Her wand flew through the air to land perfectly in her hand. She tossed Theo his wand, and threw up a hasty shield around Roger. Ducking under a Stunning spell, she sent one back with force. The rest of the room was neutralized quickly, and she turned to Temple. Theo had beat her to him. Temple sat on the floor fully bound by an Incarcerous. Roger had apparently been able to fight off his own restraints. He came up beside Hermione, both staring down at Temple. Without a word Roger stepped forward and punched the man right in the jaw hard enough to knock him over sideways.

"That guy is a dick", He said unnecessarily. "You alright?" He asked turning to Hermione. She gave him a slightly incredulous look, and raised her eyebrow at him as if saying 'what do you think?'. "Tougher than you look, got it." He nodded and pat her on the back.

"You're a dead man, Granger", Temple's menacing voice rose from where he was on the ground bringing attention back to him. His face held a look worthy to wither grass. His eyes burning deeply with the need to revenge whatever Theo had done to him.

Theo silenced him, and spelled the ropes binding Temple to tighten. The man turned red, and began gasping for breath. His glare did not leave Theo's face until the man passed out. Theo turned on Hermione. "How the hell are you here, Granger?" He looked incredulous and angry.

As Hermione was about to open her mouth to defend her presence here and demand the same information from him, a shuffling noise came from upstairs. Turning back to Theo she demanded, "How many more were upstairs?"

"Three that I saw", He replied. "Can either of you take down their anti-apparition ward?" The door at the top of the stairs creaked open. "There's no time. Looks like we'll be forcing our way out." He appeared gleeful at the prospect.

"What about him?" Roger asked, pointing at Temple. Theo had already began directing attacks at the intruder at the top of the stairs.

"Leave him. I'll catch back up to him eventually. Do you need a wand?" Theo asked looking at Roger's empty hands.

Roger's eyes met Hermione's before she answered for him, "Roger is a muggle".

Rolling his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh despite Hermione's hard look, "Merlin, Granger. Anything else I should know about? You can at least remember how to use a wand, yeah?" Turning to Roger he continued, "Do you think you can manage to climb the stairs on your own? I know the mere thought can be a struggle".

"Keep talking Theo, and I'll show you exactly how I use my wand." Hermione interrupted narrowing her eyes at his attitude. "Come on Roger." She continued up the stairs bumping into Theo on the way.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, she disillusioned Roger and herself. "Try to make your way to the front door quickly. We'll meet outside the building." Before Roger could consent, they were both pushed into the wall.

"Pardon me", Theo whispered to them, and thrust himself through the door. "Gentlemen! So glad to see you again." He threw spells left and right at every person he saw in the room.

"Morgana, help me", Hermione grunted as she threw up a shield to deflect a curse shot in their direction. "When we get out of here, I'm going to curse that git into oblivion." She turned back to Roger, "I'm going to cover his arse, so he doesn't get himself killed. I'll meet you outside." She opened the door, and spells began flying seemingly from nowhere.

Roger made his way around the perimeter dodging people casting oblivious to his presence. One wizard had his wand aimed in the direction Hermione's spells were coming from. Roger lifted a nearby vase to break over the man's head. As the man swayed on his feet from the impact to his head, a red light shot at the wizard hitting him in the chest before he could fall. Roger looked up to see Theo moving his wand to look for the next threat. "Maybe you're not entirely useless, muggle."

One of the other wizards in the room hit Hermione in the thigh with a Slicing Hex. She yelped in pain and her disillusionment failed. Two more wizards ran in behind her from another room, "Go get the others!" one yelled. Hermione was quicker with a Reducto aimed at the floor beneath their feet creating a hole that dropped them into the basement.

She stood on the edge of the opening and began limping over to Theo, "Let's get out of here". He offered her an arm that she pushed out of the way heading past him toward the door with blood trailing behind her.

"Roger?" Footprints moved in answer. She was removing his disillusionment as Theo came out the door. He was waving his wand at the door using a Sticking Charm to shut the door.

"Where are you two staying?" Theo asked.

"We were supposed to be boarding a ship today", Roger, clearly having had his fill of this day, bit out glaring at the wizard.

"Well, plans change muggle. Adapt or die. I didn't exactly plan on having to save a bushy haired menace and her muggle boyfriend today." He replied casually.

"We wouldn't even have been in this situation if it weren't for you!" Roger shouted.

"Actually, it was all a big misunderstanding", Theo waved his hand in the air casually, like he was shooing an insect away.

The door began shaking, as the wizards on the other side pounded on it. "Let's get out of here", Hermione repeated looking pale and beginning to sway on her feet. The door shook violently before splintering apart.

"Well fuck." Theo gripped Hermione's arm. "Better hold on tight muggle", He said with a wicked smirk reaching for Roger as well.

A/N: Thank you all for the positive feedback for this story. Finally the moment you all have been waiting for. A grand entrance, and a little bit of action. Fav/Review if you're enjoying or have any requests or questions!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **Why Granger?**

The three of them appeared outside a quaint crofter's cottage with a pop. The cottage was roughly made with stone walls, and a chimney poking out from either end of the house. The tallest of the travelers hit the grassy ground with a thud. Theo looked at the shape of Roger on the ground with a chuckle hearing the other man retch. He nudged Hermione with his elbow, "Hit the ground like a sack of potatoes". His good mood didn't last, however, as his nudge to Hermione caused her to fall with a similar thud. "No one appreciates my humor these days." Theo muttered to himself. He aimed his wand at the two of them to levitate them in pocketing Hermione's wand in the process.

Hermione woke groggily as always. Her head was thumping in time with her heart, and her mouth was dry as a haystack. Turning her head gently from side to side, she saw she was in a comfortably furnished bedroom. The linens in the bed she lay in were equally soft and warm. Light shone through a small window lighting on a pitcher and cup on the bedside table as well as a couple potions. She checked the area looking for her wand. After wetting her mouth with the water, she was just sitting up when the door opened.

Theo entered the room carrying a tray. "Feeling better?" His attitude was much more muted than the night before.

"Where's my wand?" She inquired abruptly ignoring his concern.

Theo came further into the room and set the tray on her lap. It appeared to be a stew with vegetables in a thick brown broth. Its smell slid through Hermione causing her stomach to speak up in protest its mistreatment. "Eat," He encouraged, "you've lost a lot of blood." He pulled her wand out of his pocket and set it on the tray. Gesturing to the potion vials on the side table, he spoke again, "Those are a blood replenishment and pain potions. I brewed them myself, and you know I never failed potions." He said with a cockiness that didn't read on his face that held a mix of reserve, and if Hermione had seen it on anyone else's face she would call it camaraderie.

Hermione unstoppered one of the vials and gave it an experimental sniff. Nothing gave it away as toxic. Deciding that if Theo had meant her harm, she wouldn't be laid up in a comfortable, warm bed, she drank it and reached for the other. "Thank you", she said cautiously. Reaching for the soup, she found the warm broth restored her foggy mind. Then she noticed she was wearing a green and blue flannel pajama set. It was also warm and soft, and completely not hers. She set the bowl back down slowly. "Nott, what is this?" She pinched the fabric of her sleeve and looked up to where Theo still stood.

A faint pink crept up his neck, but his voice held the arrogance of his upbringing. "I believe those are called py-jam-as". He enunciated the word slowly.

"Did you... dress me?" It was too early for this.

Apparently, sensing an opportunity to make things more uncomfortable for her "Yes," Theo responded with confidence. Then leaned forward conspiratorially, "But first I had to _un_ dress you". Hermione took a slow exasperated breath in through her nose and pinched the bridge of her nose. Without giving her a chance to retort, he continued, "Don't worry Granger. You have nothing to be embarrassed of." He aimed a charming smile and a wink in her direction. After a pause he added, "Nothing you should be hiding either".

Darting a glance back at him, he wore the most peculiar expression. The cheeky, arrogant attitude was gone for the moment. Replacing it was a complete genuineness that caught her off guard. Looking back down at her exposed hands and turning them over, she saw why. Her glamour had failed with her loss of consciousness. The magic that usually stayed up must have been pulled in her body's attempt to heal her wounds.

In her state of just waking and the shock of the situation she found herself in she blurted, "The glamour is not for me. I know what I have gone through. It's for everyone else." Seeing his confusion, she went on. "Without these", she gestured to the right side of her face, "people can see me without seeing the war. They may have heard our stories, but once they see these it's like they relive it. The pitying looks directed at me are nothing to the incessant pitiful stories of the losses others have endured. They see another survivor to swap war stories with. I want nothing more than to forget the whole bloody war and move on with my life." Her eyes were alight with the truth of her wishes.

She took a moment to collect herself. "What about you?" She scoffed. "You apparently survived the war. Why do you still wear your glamour?" Her accusatory gaze refused to drop from his.

"I…" He hesitated, deciding to be truthful as well. "I don't wear mine because of the war."

"Hermione?" Roger's resonant voice broke in as the tall Scot entered the room. "You're awake! How are you feeling? You look much better."

The moment between them was broken, Theo stood. Looking back to Hermione he dipped his head in her direction and made for the door to give the friends a minute alone. She greeted Roger with a warm smile. Her glamour was back in place.

Once the door was firmly closed Roger told her, "Strange fellow. He has been making jokes about my lack of magic the whole time we've been here. I don't think he said one thing to me that wasn't making me the butt of some joke. Otherwise he just ignored me. Where do you know him from?"

"He was a classmate from school. We had a couple classes together each year, but never really crosses paths other than that." Hermione sat straighter. "Excuse me Roger, I believe I'm in need of a bath, and meet with you afterwards."

Roger accepted her abrupt dismissal without anger. "Of course. I'll get things together for tea and meet you in a bit."

Meanwhile, Theo paced the length of his room. His eyes strayed to his bookshelf gliding unfocused over the titles. He tried to wrap his mind around how he would answer the questions he knew were just minutes away. His presence in this time, while accidental, was difficult to explain. How could he tell _her_ of all people how he planned on running away at the final battle? She was forced into a major role in that war, and he saw that it cost her more than she let on. Judging by her reaction when she saw him back in the cellar, her sudden appearance in this time was as much as a surprise as his had been. Theo was still pacing when he heard Roger's long male stride pass his door going down the hall. Mentally settling on the necessity of the impending conversation, he followed Roger's path down the hall.

Upon entering the kitchen, Theo saw Roger rummaging through every cabinet within reach. Finally locating the kettle, he started his rummaging anew.

"Alright Gandalf, where do you hide the water?" Roger was muttering to himself, still not noticing his audience.

A stream of cold water shot across the kitchen hitting Roger on the back of the neck startling the kettle out of his hand.

"AAARRGHH!", he exclaimed. Turning out of the way of the frigid ambush to look at the attacker, he called out, "What the bloody hell!"

The stream stopped. "You looked like you could use some assistance finding the water." Theo was clearly amused. He righted the fallen kettle, put it on the stove, and filled it. Giving his wand another wave, the kettle began to whistle. A tea set flew down from the cabinet and set itself on the table. Smugly looking back to where Roger stood dripping on the floor he advised, "Take care on that wet floor, Roger. I would just hate to see you slip." He turned to fix himself a cup of tea. A deep growling came from behind him.

"Do you have to be such a pompous ass all the time?" Roger demanded. "I know this must be very amusing for you. 'Watch the muggle struggle' and all that, but I am just trying to leave. There is a person I need to find, and she is now on board a ship headed to America. Which is where we were supposed to be had we not been accosted by a handful of magical criminals with a grudge against you." Roger closed his eyes breathing in deeply through his nose clearly struggling to find the endless supply of patience it would take to deal with Theo. "Hermione and I may have met by accident, but I promised her I would help her get back to her time. To do that we need to continue our journey, which would be much easier if you could stop being such an exasperating inconvenience." Roger spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child.

"Learn how to take a joke, man." Theo replied clearly not fazed by Roger's condescending tone. He pulled up his wand again and saw the tiniest cringe on Roger's face. Ignoring the discomfort of his house guest, he cleaned up the mess from the kitchen floor, and asked, "Would you like to be dried off?"

Roger stood unmoving, which Theo took as an affirmative answer. After drying him off, Theo indicated an empty chair inviting Roger to sit. "Look, I never spent much time with muggles in any capacity, and I find myself lacking the customs and mannerisms of such company." He paused as Roger took the seat. Struck with an idea, he extended an olive branch, "How about we start fresh." He extended his hand. "I am Theodore Nott, you can call me Theo if you'd like."

Roger remained apprehensive looking at Theo with open skepticism. In the end, he decidedly grabbed the outstretched hand and went with it. "Roger Jeremiah Wakefield MacKenzie. Just Roger will do fine, though." Unable to resist, Roger waited a moment and added, "Theo," he mockingly pondered, "I've heard your name before. Heard you can be a bit of an arrogant prick". He smirked at Theo.

Theo expected nothing less so without missing a beat, he responded, "Roger, what a coincidence. I have heard of you as well. They say you can be a sensitive, magicless ass. What a small world." He returned Roger's smirk tenfold.

Hermione heard the tail end of their exchange rounding the corner to enter the kitchen. She puffed up her lungs in preparation to defend Roger's presence once again only to stop upon entering. She scrunched her face in confusion, raising one eyebrow as she surveyed the men in the room. Both of which looked at her with expressions of children caught with the cookie jar. Shaking it off she spoke, "We need to talk". She entered the room fully now to sit at the table looking at the two men in a no-nonsense manner. The men exchanged a glance, their solidarity fully allied in the face of a peeved female and sat opposite her. Hermione's eyebrow raised again as she eyed the newfound partnership.

"Roger and I are in need of a ship to America." She decided to start with the obvious. "We have been delayed too long already."

"I may know a guy that can help find a boat." Theo replied hesitantly.

Roger could feel the uneasiness in the air between the two. Hermione stared at Theo as trying to solve a puzzle.

"Why did you use my surname as your alias?"

Theo's eyebrows raised minutely. Even though he knew this question would be coming the it still felt abrupt. "It was the only muggle name I could think of at the time. As I was surrounded by muggles at the time, it seemed to be a reasonable action." He responded without breaking eye a casual, detached manner.

Seemingly buying his reasoning, Hermione asked the other question that had been burning in her ever since their paths crossed. "How did you come to be here in 1769?"

Theo breathed in through his nose before answering. "Ah. That is the question, isn't it? Unfortunately, I find myself unable to divulge my second deepest secret to you quite yet."

Hermione just continued to stare at him.

Roger on the other hand, "Second most? What's your deepest secret then?"

Theo turned to Roger with his eyes glinting, "My deepest secret?" He turned to Hermione, "I was there that day at the final battle, and it's because of me that you survived." With that he threw her a wink, turned and strode from the room leaving a speechless Hermione.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Explanations Don't Explain much**

Theo exited the room hastily, chastising himself the entire way. " _Why did you say that you utter moron?"_ Once in the safety of his room, he clicked the door closed and leaned his back against it. Closing his eyes wishing with all his heart he had not blabbed his big mouth.

He could practically hear his friends chastising him for needing to be the center of attention.

Breathing in deeply and resting his head against the door, he fought the onslaught of memories rolling over him. ' _It was because of me that you survived.'_ He scoffed. If only that were entirely true.

 _Theo landed slightly unsteady on the rubble underneath his feet. 'This is it', he thought to himself. 'No going back now.' Looking around to get his bearings he found himself in a second-floor corridor overlooking the courtyard. Squinting his eyes against the flashes of spells striking, and debris flying the air  
he found what he was looking for. A messy haired boy with his wand arm outstretched, a girl in a pink sweater with hair escaping her braid, and a redhead facing backwards bringing up the rear. They were racing through the chaos towards the bridge leading down to the boat house. Spells were flying in every direction at them, from them, and past them. Theo turned down the corridor to head them off._

 _Keeping one eye on their progression through the mire, and keeping his head attached was proving difficult. While dodging a particularly nasty orange curse from an order member he lost his target. He decided to head in the direction that he knew they were headed regardless. Surrounding himself with a strong shield spell he raced around the edge of the ongoing battle in the courtyard. His shield was flashing with hit after hit._

" _Hey! Deatheater scum. Running already? We've only just begun!" The voice was growing louder. Theo turned just in time for his shield to break under a mean Lightening Hex. His back slammed against the stone wall of the castle. Gathering his feet underneath him once more, he found himself at wand point. Raising his eyes to confront his attacker, he saw a fierce expression under a ponytail of red hair belonging to Charlie Weasley._

" _Weasley is it? While I appreciate your efforts and your curse throwing abilities, you are really going to feel quite foolish when you realize I am not actually a death eater". Theo slowly raised his arms in surrender._

" _You know you're not getting off that easily, Nott", Charlie replied with his wand still aimed between Theo's eyes. "I know who your father is, and it's better to be safe than sorry today"._

 _Theo's heart was beating out an erratic beat. 'No, no, no this fucking idiot is going to ruin everything!' As he opened his mouth to try again to convince him of his innocence his attacker was silhouetted in a red glow and fell face forward. Theo sidestepped the man letting him fall into a pile of bricks (bugger deserved it in his opinion)._

" _Careful out here, Theodore. Wouldn't want to have to be the one to tell Daddy dearest his only son died at the hands of a Weasley, blood-traitor", a mocking tone drifted to him._

" _Piss off, Montague. I had it all under control", Theo lied. As it were, Theo contemplated cursing the bastard on principle. He had been tormenting Theo ever since the dick had taken his mark over the summer. Montague pranced around Hogwarts on his high horse proud of the condemning mark on his forearm. Always coming in after a meeting talking up Theo's own father not knowing what a monster he actually is. 'Thoros and I were teamed for a mission. Too bad I can't tell you the details' He would say within Theo's hearing how Thoros was like a father to him. Then one day when Theo tried to warn him not to get too comfortable around his father, hinting about how the man could not be trusted. Montague just responded in a condescending tone 'Thoros always said how disappointed his is that you take after your mother.' Montague was too stupid to realize how much danger he was actually in. As the rage at these memories took hold, Theo had a curse on his tongue to save the ignorant bastard in front of him the trouble of waiting for Thoros to finish with him when he saw a flash of pink exiting his field of vision._

 _Swallowing the anger to save for later, he nodded once and abruptly said, "Now if you'll excuse me". He turned to the left and continued his journey. Wondering the whole time why in the hell were these fools were going to the boat house in the first place. Keeping in the shadows he watched their forms duck against the side of the building and consult about something. He was too far away to hear what it was. Suddenly, a flash of white came from inside of the house. Theo was near a window and chancing a glance inside he saw his head of house on his knees before the Dark Lord. His eyes widened, and his heart began to pump once he saw the look on the Dark Lord's face. He had seen this look before directed at his group of new recruits. It was a smug look that preceded death. Keeping as far to the shadows as he could, he watched in horror as the giant snake Nagini came from behind his professor and struck its fangs in his neck._

 _Hearing a noise to his right, he turned towards the trio and continued to watch at Potter cursed the door apart, in an attempt to confront the Dark Lord. From his view at the window, Theo saw Snape illuminated in a bright flash of green just as he was slipping to the side in a pool of his own blood. He landed with a barely audible plop that was followed by a thud. A high-pitched scream of terror blasted from his left, and Theo watched as the Dark Lord continued his assault to the last two hopes the wizarding world had. Ron jumped in front of Hermione catching the next killing curse. Hermione looked lost for a fraction of a second when he fell._

 _A tear tracked down her cheek on the side that Theo could see, reflecting in the light of the boat house. Her eyes shining as they lifted from her dead friend at her feet, to the equally as dead friend in the doorway. Her nostril flared as she inhaled. The brow that had been tight and furrowed went slack, then tight in an angry feline fashion. Her eyes burned with fire as they met the murderer of her friends. Even from where Theo stood almost ten yards away, he felt her magic. Hermione stood there, an avenging angel, her rage lifting her hair, her exhales coming like dragon fire._

 _Voldemort looked on with amusement as Hermione raised her wand at him. He held his own in a loose grip slightly in front of him. "Does this anger you, child?" He taunted. "Me killing your beloved friends?" He flicked his wand lazily sending a Killing Curse in her direction._

 _Hermione slashed her wand viciously downward without breaking eye contact. "This stops now", she said steadily._

 _Voldemort looked taken aback momentarily. "And are you going to stop me then girl? You are not worthy of my time here. Time to die like a good mudblood." He trained the elder wand on her shot a blue curse at her followed by two more that Theo couldn't identify. Hermione parried them all and returned fire with a freezing charm, followed by thunderous crack of lightning that Thor himself would be proud of. The freezing charm was easily blocked, but Voldemort slid back several feet with the power of the lightning spell. Untouched but angry, he sent a wave of pure dark energy at Hermione. She swirled her wand around her to create a cyclone of her own magic that absorbed his magic and went for the man himself. Voldemort resorted to calling forth a strong shield and pushing her magic back to her. Each battling for control of their magic, Theo could see sweat glistening on Hermione's face._

' _She can't do it alone', he thought. As he prepared himself to push his magic to supplement hers, she stopped. Lifting her out of her casting, Theo saw the look of peaceful resignation on her face and with both hands she blasted Voldemort with all she had. A wave of pure power engulfed him, and ripped him apart piece by piece. Voldemort disintegrated before his eyes becoming nothing more than a cloud of dirty fog._

 _Hermione's wand clattered to the ground before her body met the same fate. The moment it took for her to break the spell she was holding to recast had cost her everything. Voldemort's dark energy found a hole to break through and rip through her as hers met him. Theo watched in dismay as the remaining hero fell to the side next to Ron's body. With the last of her life she reached out to grasp the lifeless hand of her friend._

 _Theo raced over to where she lay, but it was too late. Hermione Granger was dead before he could make it to her. He kneeled beside her and smoothed her hair off her still sweaty face. He let his head drop and let out a shuddering breath._

 _After a moment to gather himself he stood, took one more look at the death surrounding him and reached inside his shirt withdrawing a long chain with a hourglass shape confined within an unbreakable glass globe. Giving it three turns, his last thought was how much he hoped Voldemort was not standing here three hours ago._

The memories from that night had tormented every waking moment of his life for too long. For years he stayed holed up in this place trying, and failing, to make heads and tails of what had happened. Over time as the memories began to fade the tiniest of bits, he became confused about what timeline was which. He remembered every terrible moment vividly. These memories effectively clouded the timing. Theo watched time and time again as the 'Golden Trio' died the most horrid of deaths. He watched time and time again as his 'friends' led the orchestration that led to their own demise as well as the members of the Order. He had seen multiple endings to that fateful day, each more dissatisfying an end than the last. Each time had one significant factor, however, the life and death of Hermione Granger directly affected the end. In the lines that she died early in the Battle, the Order never got close to defeating the Death Eaters. When Hermione lived until the end, the Order had a strong position to win if they hadn't already.

Somehow, she was always the key to victory despite what the Prophecy stated.

Hermione remained in the dining room after Theo's abrupt departure. "What in bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?"

When Theo didn't come out of his room by dinner time, Hermione and Roger decided to take action.

Roger went knocking at Theo's door with a plate of food in his hand, hoping their new found friendship was enough to draw him out. "You can't stay in there forever, Theo. I brought you some dinner."

"Good God! Can't a man have a good wank in peace around here?" was the reply. The door blew open moments later. Hazel eyes that went from a light sage in the middle to a warm cinnamon brown at the edges stared hungrily at the plate. "What kind of fuel have you brought me? I think I'm onto something here."

Roger shuddered. "Ugh, just take it all." He said thrusting the plate as though afraid to be contaminated by the other man's hands.

"Ahh, that's just what I say to her in my fantasies." Theo looked starry eyed at nothing.

"Creep," Roger mumbled stumbling backwards when he was finally free of the plate. He was wiping his hands on his shirt as Hermione passed him in the hallway.

"Any luck?" She asked.

"Apparently not as much as some here." He shuddered again. Hermione tilted her head in question.

"Hermione! I was just thinking about you," Theo shouted down the hall. The plate of food in one hand as he picked a piece of chicken off with the other.

Taking that as his queue, Roger left the hallway going anywhere else. Hermione watched his retreat deciding this may be one of those times it's better not to pursue an answer.

"Listen, Nott." She began. "I don't want to know what that was about just now. I will even let that closing comment from earlier go. For now, at least, but you have now wasted an entire day that Roger and I could have been on our way to America." She was quickly closing the distance in the hallway. Fueled by her own irritation at the man, she began wagging her finger at him to emphasize her point. "We let you sulk all day about whatever bad choices you've inevitably made in your sad, sad life. Now, you need to pull it together, and make it right. We wouldn't be in half the mess we are now if it weren't for you. Tomorrow you are going to reach out to your contacts, and find us a spot on a ship." Hermione poked him in the chest. "Are we clear?"

Theo set the plate on a side table in the hall and took a step forward. Narrowing his eyes, he took another step forward. "Is that so?" Another step toward Hermione had her backing up blindly craning her neck to keep eye contact. When her back found the wall the finally stopped. "Whatever choices I have made in my 'sad, sad life' are none of your concern. At least I made them for myself. I didn't choose to waste years of my life keeping two inadequate chimps alive. I didn't choose to fight in a war I didn't understand." He leaned down leveling his lips with her ear. "I chose myself." He moved his head into Hermione's direct line of sight, almost touching her nose with his. "I am not one of your hero complex, handicapped friends, Hermione. I take the effort to figure out how to get what I want without losing everything else."

He brushed his hand under her hair to smooth it against the length of her neck. "You would do well to remember that next time you try to give me a stern talking to." His eyes sparkled with mirth as he gently placed his lips against her forehead.

Theo felt said forehead crinkle under his lips before he was pushed forcefully away. The sparkle remained in his eyes as he shrugged. "As it turns out I have not been entirely sedentary today. I found a ship with open positions, and reserved three of them. We leave in two days."

A/N: Chapter update for minor grammar fix. Thanks all for reading!


End file.
